


(Your Bangs Are Curled, Your Lashes Twirled) And Still, The World Is Cruel

by Stylinsonvodka



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bullying, Crossdressing, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Harry Punches a Kid, Innocent Louis, M/M, Punk Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylinsonvodka/pseuds/Stylinsonvodka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Louis wears a dress for Halloween because he fucking feels like it, thanks, and Harry's wearing kitty ears when he nearly kills the first kid that tries to do something about it. </p>
            </blockquote>





	(Your Bangs Are Curled, Your Lashes Twirled) And Still, The World Is Cruel

**Author's Note:**

> lotsa notes here lil bunnies so beep beep 
> 
> — another prompt fill!!!!! a non angsty one!!!!!!!!
> 
> — [this](https://24.media.tumblr.com/5db282cc1e383e739dcd3adfc2be0a7a/tumblr_mxrnc2iL561t0jmjmo1_500.jpg) is the dress and shoes louis' wearing
> 
> — omg sorry again for the emphasis // but i hate trying to use italics on my phone
> 
> — also sorry this turned out as fluffy and plotless as it did
> 
> — but only a little sorry 
> 
> — but its cute so im still thinking sequel??
> 
> — so lemme know if youd read a sequel???
> 
> — and basically you're welcome for this 
> 
> — just kidding

So Louis does this thing where he's kind of incredibly feminine and doesn't give a shit what anybody has to say about it. 

He's always been this way, he thinks, more dainty and bright and pretty than even some of the girls he's known. He can vaguely remember being five and pulling his favourite skirt on with nails painted pink, and he definitely remembers his mum coming to school to yell at his teacher after he called her to tell her she should do something about her son. He thinks he recalls wearing bright skirts, (and too many tutus. He's still mad at his mother for not telling him how terrible he looked) all through kindergarten, and being the most excited he's ever been when he graduated to dresses in year one. He'd eventually outgrown dresses, for the most part, (he still wears leggings more than he probably should, but), in either third or fourth grade, but apparently, junior year, his life is coming back around full circle, and Eleanor is absolutely set on having him go as her twin for Halloween. 

They don't even look alike. 

(They kind of look alike.)

"Pretty please?" She begs, dropping to her knees in front of Louis, hands clasped together in front of her face. It's officially Halloween, and approximately seven in the morning, and Louis' not sure if he's pissed off more at the short notice or the early hour. School doesn't start until nine today. "Oh, prettiest please? Pretty than you please?"

"That's a very pretty please," Louis remarks dryly, and Eleanor lifts her hands higher. She doesn't say anything, only juts out her lower lip, eyelashes fluttering the way they do when she's about to cry. Louis sighs loudly. He thinks he hates her. "We don't even look the same!" 

"Yes, we do," she reminds him, grinning up at him suddenly like she knows she's won. He definitely hates her. "And I'll cinnamon swirl your hair so we'll both be curly, and I bought us matching dresses!" 

"When?" 

"Yesterday!" Louis must not look entirely convinced, for Eleanor jumps to her feet, grin still wide and victorious. "I have them with me. Do you wanna see?" 

Louis sighs again, for affect. "I guess." 

Eleanor beams again, far too assured of her victory. She presses a kiss to Louis' cheek, before she turns on her heel, and rushes from his room with a skip in her step Louis tries his best not to be fond of. Within barely a minute — a minute and a half, tops — she's back, carrying a couple of long black garment bags and two of the scariest pairs of heels Louis thinks he's ever seen. 

"Oh no," he deadpans. 

"You'll love them, I promise," she laughs. She's so giddy. Too giddy. (Too smug.) 

She lays the bags down on the bed, and unzips the first one slowly — "Dramatic effect," she explains, when Louis huffs — pulling the dress out and on top of if with a flourish. 

And it's probably one of the prettiest dresses Louis' ever seen. 

It's black, and sleeveless, and high collared, and beautiful. The waist is pinched, and flares out just below the silk band, and a few layers of ruffles are visible just below the hemline. Some of the fabric is sheer, and it looks as though it'd be very short, and it's really, very lovely. 

Louis sighs. He's so weak. "Alright. I'll do it." 

. 

It's when Louis' stepping out of Eleanor's car — in dark mascara and those fucking killer heels, for fuck's sake — that he starts to have second thoughts. He knows how great his eyes look rimmed in black, and he knows how absolutely perfect his legs look as he swings them out of the car (especially since Eleanor had had him shave barely twenty minutes ago). But it's been so long since he's actually, properly worn a dress, and times have changed so much since then. Most young people now are judgmental and intolerant, and Louis gets bullied enough day to day for even wearing yoga pants. But then Eleanor's standing in front of him, nearly identical but not nearly as hot, and she's taking his hand and helping him from the car and he feels so much better with her next to him squeezing his fingers. 

"You look hot," she whispers, and, well, duh. "C'mon." 

Hand still in his, she leads him from the parking lot, and up the front few steps of the school without incident or any broken bones. People still lingering outside glance after them as they walk by, but, to Louis' surprise, nobody says anything, and Louis makes it to homeroom, and then his first class, without incident. 

Even more surprising, he makes it through his next three without so much as a distasteful glance in his direction. Nearing fifth period, he's nearly giddy, thinking that he's gonna make it through his first entire day with high spirits and without a bruise. He had forgotten, though, that his luck is about as shitty as it gets, and it's only as he's walking back to his locker, heels clicking against the tile, that he remembers. He pauses for barely a moment, and kicks a leg out behind him to adjust his shoe, when suddenly there's a hand on his ass and a tall body pushing him up against the wall. 

"Wah —" Louis starts to protest, when the figure presses more securely against him and a small noise of pain bubbles past his lips. "/Hey/."

"Hey," the figure greets casually, as though he's not pinning a much smaller bloke to a wall in an empty school hallway.

Louis whimpers again. "Get /off/ me."

"Nah," he hums. His accent sounds vaguely American. 

Louis frowns. "/Yes/," he snaps. The figure behind him only hums again, and starts to run a hand up his thigh, and Louis cries out in protest as he elbows the bloke in the stomach instinctively. He hisses, and stumbles back, but before Louis can do something smart, like run, he's standing right back up and pressing Louis even more securely against the wall. 

Louis can see him this time, and the dark glint in his eyes, and he shrinks back against the wall as best he can manage. It crosses his mind that he should probably scream, and hope to catch somebody's attention, but the hall he's down is void of both classrooms and students and he's not sure how much good it would do. His next thought is that he should just give up and hope for the best, but just as the stranger's hand starts to make it's way back up his thigh, he disappears, and it takes Louis a full several seconds to find out what had happened. 

And when he realizes he's been tackled by a bloke with full sleeves of tattoos and kitten ears, he almost doesn't believe it. 

"What — what the fuck?" The bloke that had been tackled hisses, nose bleeding profusely. He must have been hit. (Good.) "Who the fuck are you?" 

"Your fucking conscience, fuckface," the new stranger spits, and Louis, still stunned, thinks he probably has the most attractive voice Louis' ever heard. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?" 

"Trying to prey on the princess, obviously." He looks like he's about to snort, when the tattooed bloke sits back, and, without warning, promptly punches him in the face again. His answering hiss is slightly strangled. "The fuck, mate? 're you the knight in shining arm?" 

"Absolutely," he snaps. "And if I ever see you anywhere near /my/ princess again, I will fucking kill you. Understand?" 

"Calm down," comes the reply, though he quickly blurts, "yes, yes, I understand," when the tattooed stranger raises his fist again. He rises to his feet slowly, before the other lad scrambles out from under him, and walks back down the hall, seemingly trying to be casual, despite holding a hand to his nose to try and keep himself from bleeding all over himself. 

Louis nearly smiles. 

But then the other stranger, the tall one with the tattoos, starts advancing towards him, and Louis thinks fuck, shit, he's gonna try to touch me too. He almost flinches, but it's in vain, for he stops a couple feet away, head tilted in concern. (He has a little kitty nose drawn on his face, and a few whiskers splayed out across his cheeks.) (Louis thinks he might love him.)

"Are you alright babe?" He asks finally, in his velvet voice, and yeah, fuck, Louis' in love with him. 

He nods slowly. "I — I'm fine. But — wow, fuck. What was — fuck. Wow." 

The stranger smiles. He's got dimples. "Is that a yes?" 

"Yeah, yes," Louis nods, cheeks tinged pink. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," he scoffs. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Louis nods again. "Just kinda stunned," he admits, and can't help but smile when the stranger dimples. Er, grins. "What was — why'd you do that?" 

"Couldn't let someone as lovely as you get hurt, could I?" 

Louis blushes again, darkly, despite his best attempts. "Most people probably would have."

"I like to think of myself as a decent human being," he shrugs, before grinning again, and holding a (massive) hand out to Louis. "I'm Harry." 

"Pleasure, Harry," Louis chimes, taking Harry's hand delicately. "I'm Louis, and I am probably not as decent as you." 

Harry laughs. "But so much more beautiful. I like your dress." 

"I, ah, thanks," Louis replies, glancing down at his dress with a flush. "Me and my friend Eleanor went as twins, but she — I don't look as good as her." 

"I doubt that."

Louis flushes again, and he hates himself for it. (And he hates Harry for keep making it happen.) "Yeah, well," he shrugs, finally glancing up at Harry again from beneath his eyelashes. "What about you?" He asks. "What are you supposed to be? A mouse, right?" 

Harry grins, reaching up to adjust to adjust his ears. "Cat, actually." 

"Manly," Louis quips. (And then blushes again when he remembers he's in a dress.)

Harry rolls his eyes. "My sister did this. She didn't want me to not dress up, but I didn't actually wanna do anything she had planned for me." 

"What did she want you to be?" Louis asks curiously, looking the rest of the way up, and Harry grins again. 

"Stripper cop." 

Louis raises his eyebrows. "How close are you to your sister?" 

"No — /wow/," Harry says quickly, "not like that. I'm, like, new at school, right, and she thought it would help get me some attention. And maybe laid, so I'll 'get out of the goddamn house more and stop being a mopey bastard.'" 

"Ah, family," Louis says. 

"Ah, older siblings," Harry agrees, rolling his eyes. 

"I've only got younger siblings. All females. My uncle thinks it's why I'm such a bitch."

"He sounds like a dick. I think you're beautiful," he states matter-of-factly, and when Louis blushes again, he grins. "And if you wouldn't mind," Harry continues, "I would love to take you out to dinner?"

"Now?" Louis asks. Harry nods. "It's like one thirty in the afternoon. And we have school." 

"If we get caught you can say your skipping for, like, trauma, and I was walking you home to make sure you were okay." 

"I feel like you've put thought into this." 

Harry grins, and Louis swears he can see his ears turn pink. "Maybe." 

"Well," Louis says, shrugging slowly in an attempt at coming across nonchalant. "Mm. I guess. I don't normally like to be seen with kittens, but you punched a kid for me, so I guess I can make an exception."

"Yeah?" Harry grins again. (He smiles a lot. Louis loves him.)

He shrugs again. "Yeah. If /you/ don't mind me being seen with /me/."

Harry laughs. "It'll be an honor to be seen with you," he assures him, holding a hand out to Louis, who wraps his hands around his — very toned — bicep slowly. 

"You're very charismatic," he observes, and Harry laughs. 

"I like to think so. And you're very beautiful." 

Louis blushes. "I'm honestly not that beautiful." 

"Yes, you are," Harry states. "Now come on, beautiful." 

He leads him back down the hall, and Louis follows beside him, heels clicking against the tile. 

(And he makes it out of the school without any embarrassing incidents or any broken bones.)

**Author's Note:**

> dont forget to [follow me on tumblr](http://www.stylinsonvodka.tumblr.com) and maybe send me prompts there if you wanna


End file.
